


bogo

by doremifasorashige, thunderylee



Category: Kis-My-Ft2 (Band)
Genre: Canon Universe, M/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-25
Updated: 2012-11-25
Packaged: 2019-01-18 06:57:32
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12383187
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/doremifasorashige/pseuds/doremifasorashige, https://archiveofourown.org/users/thunderylee/pseuds/thunderylee
Summary: Fujigaya wonders why is it he can’t just be friends with Kitayama.





	bogo

**Author's Note:**

> reposted from agck. written for cotton candy bingo (asking someone out).

Fujigaya’s mom is clipping coupons when he trudges into the kitchen, hair sticking straight up and robe inside-out. She says something to him, but he just grunts and pokes around in the refrigerator until he finds something suitable for breakfast/lunch/whatever the sun is up.

A tear-out from the advert is sitting in front of him when he sits, struggling to focus his eyes. He remembers a few years ago when he used to sleep past noon and still feel like shit, but back then alcohol was involved and usually some rather bad life choices. Now it’s just drama filming kicking his ass and he wonders if this is what it’s like to be an adult.

Before he can get too depressed—without both of his eyes open, even—he looks at the tear-out and squints to read the print. _Buy one get one free_ , it starts, and he rolls his eyes at whatever his mother had thought he’d be interested in buying just to get a deal like this. Then he reads on and wakes up real fast, because it’s a _spa package_ with _tanning_ and he might have jumped up and hugged her with a high-pitched squeal but nobody can prove that.

“But who do I take?” he muses out loud, because it’s only a deal if there are two of them and they split the price of one package. The logical answer is right in front of his face, because there’s only one other person who insists on staying as dark as him in November, but Fujigaya sees that fool enough already.

“Why don’t you ask Hiromitsu-kun?” his mother asks, and Fujigaya prides himself on not crushing the coupon from his indignant rage. “You boys used to go to to this place together all the time. Or are you fighting again?”

“We’re not fighting, Mom, we’re adults.” Fujigaya frowns a bit as he considers what he just said. “He’s probably busy anyway.” Busy sleeping, or eating, or doing whatever he does with Eito’s Ohkura that they’re so weird about.

“You won’t know until you ask!” Fuji-mama is entirely too cheerful and Fujigaya wonders if this whole thing is a ploy to get them to hang out again. Sometimes their families are worse than delusional fangirls.

“Yeah, okay, I’ll see,” Fujigaya gives in, with absolutely no intentions to see about anything as he shoots a mail off to Kawai. Naturally he gets a _no way in hell am I going on a priss date with you_ followed by an unhelpful suggestion of whom to take that is instantly deleted upon the first kanji.

Fujigaya only almost considers bringing up the coupon to Kitayama when it’s a week later when it sits on the table next to his bed, almost taunting him. It would be a shame the just let the chance pass by, but it’s the act of asking Kitayama to do something with him that’s the bother. He momentarily wonders how this came to be since at one point they were actually friends, but the thought is gone when Fujigaya’s phone vibrates on the bed next to him.

“Speak of the devil,” he mutters. A mail from Kitayama.

_I hear you have a spa coupon_ it reads and Fujigaya now wants to punch whoever it was that told the little troll he had one.

_so what if i do?_

The next reply doesn’t come for a bit, and Fujigaya almost suspects the other had fallen asleep. _Don’t play dumb with me, Fujigaya._

Before he thinks of even replying, his phone is ringing with some annoying tone that Nikaido probably switched it to when he wasn’t looking. “Kawai told me,” is the first thing he hears. “He said it was a two for one deal or something.”

“Kawai should keep his mouth shut,” he grumbles, but sighs anyway. “Do you want to go or not?”

Kitayama’s laughter over the phone is just as loud as it is in person (and how Fujigaya remembers it from when they used to actually talk). “You’re supposed to be polite when asking someone on a date, Fujigaya.”

“Not a date,” Fujigaya hisses, but that just makes Kitayama laugh harder. “Fine, I’ll let you use it, but only because you’ve been looking pale lately.”

“Oh, that hurts,” Kitayama says sarcastically. “You’re the one with the schedule. Tell me the time and place.”

Fujigaya has a smartass answer for that as well, but he bites his tongue. “Tomorrow. The place we used to go to, you know, before.”

A pause. “Oh, wow, I haven’t been there in years. I didn’t think they were still in business.”

“Apparently they need some if they’re putting coupons in the adverts.” Fujigaya shrugs even though he knows Kitayama can’t see it. “Tomorrow afternoon? I like to sleep in on my days off.”

“Let’s grab lunch first,” Kitayama says smoothly, and Fujigaya’s already agreed on the place and hung up before he realized that Kitayama has just invited him to lunch. Effortlessly.

Maybe they’re friends after all, Fujigaya thinks, already planning to make Kitayama pay for his lunch. It’s Fujigaya who is sharing his coupon, after all, and it’s Kitayama’s duty as leader anyway. Never mind that Fujigaya hasn’t thought of him as one in a very long time—if ever.

Having lunch with Kitayama isn’t nearly as bad as Fujigaya had thought it would be. If he was being honest, he’d say it’s kind of amusing to watch the other make obscene noises even when the cameras aren’t rolling. “You still eat like a child in public.” It was meant to sound more insulting than amused, but already Fujigaya can feel something tugging at the corner of his lips.

Kitayama doesn’t even look from where he’s having a foodgasm over his lunch. “And you still eat like a bird. Seriously.” He takes another bite of his lunch and mumbles around his food. “How is it you’re doing like your fourth or fifth drama in a row and not eating like you’re dying.”

“Please, no worried leader card,” Fujigaya says waving a hand in dismissal. “Just pay for my lunch and I’ll gladly eat more.”

“Charming as always, Fujigaya.”

“Says the one who looks like a chipmunk and still puts more food into his mouth.”

Kitayama looks as if he wants to protest, but decides against it and only orders another drink after he’s freed his mouth a bit.

They sit in comfortable silence for a while, eating their respective meals and Fujigaya reply to stupid mails from Kawai asking _so how’s your date?_ that have stupid winking emoji.

_it’s not a date,_ he types out with a frown, taking a long sip from his drink, straw stuck at the bottom in-between ice making obnoxious noise. _it’s just taking advantage of a coupon._

“Will you get a damn refill?” Kitayama says when the empty sounds of Fujigaya’s cup only become more persistent. “That’s really annoying.”

He looks up from glaring at his phone to Kitayama, who is wearing those stupid black-rimmed glasses as usual. “What?” Kitayama nods at his cup, making him look down. “Oh. Sorry.” He orders a refill and next time he looks at his phone there’s another mail from Kawai. _whatever you say taisuke_ , it reads and Fujigaya can see the stupid smile on the other’s face.

Naturally Kitayama doesn’t pay for Fujigaya’s meal, not that Fujigaya really expected him to. That’s more for the younger members, particularly Senga and Nikaido who purposely don’t eat before practice so Kitayama _has_ to feed them. Fujigaya likes to think that he’s more more of an equal to Kitayama, despite technically being his senpai, so he’s fine with paying for himself.

_going dutch? how modern_ , Kawai mails, and Fujigaya turns off his phone. They’re at the spa anyway, so he shoves it into a locker with his clothes. The old lady who runs the place remembers them not from television but from when they used to come here before, after spending weeks scraping together their tiny junior salaries to get pampered after a month or so of hard work.

“It’s so nice to see you two again!” she coos, and Fujigaya twists his towel even tighter around his waist. “It warms my heart to know that you’re still best friends.”

“I wouldn’t go that—” Fujigaya starts, but Kitayama cuts him off.

“It’s been a long time, obaachan,” he says. “Taisuke and I still work together. Don’t you listen to the radio? Our songs are on it now.”

The old lady laughs and pats Kitayama’s arm, though it’s more like a slap and Fujigaya barely hides his snort as Kitayama winces. “You boys and your wild dreams! When you were teenagers, you were both in here talking about being famous and dancing on TV.”

“But we really are famous and dancing on TV,” Kitayama says blankly.

“Whatever you say, dear.” Fujigaya’s biting the insides of his cheeks to keep from laughing now, and Kitayama shoots him an incredulous look as the owner leads them into the first room.

It seems the spa package hasn’t changed, mud baths followed by massages and finally the tanning, with an onsite public bath for even more relaxing afterward. As they soak in the mud baths with cucumbers on their eyes and green face masques that Fujigaya used to call “alien masques” when they were kids, Fujigaya finds himself glad that he’d brought Kitayama after all. They’re in the same room, but there’s absolutely no conversation between the pair. It’s a comfortable silence. Kawai would have undoubtedly wanted to chat the whole time and Fujigaya wouldn’t be nearly as relaxed as he is now.

The massage parlor is another story, though. Kitayama’s always been loud, especially when they get to the deep tissue part, but it’s not as funny as it was when he was seventeen. Fujigaya ends up tensing even more over it, and his own masseuse pounds on him so hard that he can’t do anything but suffer through the melodic scale of moans sounding from across the room because he can’t move enough to react.

Fujigaya just grits his teeth through the entire thing, willing himself to ignore Kitayama’s loud noises. It doesn’t really work, and when the masseuse leaves him to relax a bit before moving onto the tanning he just lets out a deep breath, cursing once more every damn god and deity and whatever other beings there are for making it so he had to take _Kitayama_ to the spa with him. He knew there was some reason for him to be against this aside from the initial fact that they are not best friends anymore.

Tanning relaxes Fujigaya’s mind, momentarily drifting from thoughts of Kitayama and his ridiculous noises to practically nothing. He’s glad to have a moment not to look at the other, and breathe, forgetting thoughts of friendship and why he’s incapable of acting like a human being with Kitayama.

He finds himself not being able to look Kitayama in the eyes when they meet back up by the lockers. They dress in silence, Fujigaya probably the only one who is uncomfortable at the moment since Kitayama’s body language screams that he could just fall asleep at any given moment if so desired.

“Anything else on the agenda?” Kitayama asks when they reach outside once more. He shivers against the November chill after having been in the warm building for so long. He crosses his arms and closes in on himself a little.

Fujigaya has to turn away because he remembers Kitayama doing this when they were younger as well. “Not really, no. I was going to go home now.” He looks at his phone, pretending to have something important to reply to. “Probably eat dinner.”

That’s when Kitayama makes a noise that’s slightly embarrassing. “I remember your mom’s cooking.” He says, getting lost in the moment. “Fucking amazing.”

That’s right, Fujigaya thinks, Kitayama used to come over all the time for dinner. Or he’d go over to the other’s house. It happened quite often. But now Fujigaya can’t remember the last time they did that, or why they stopped.

“I guess you can join us,” Fujigaya mutters, confident that his mother would gleefully accept Kitayama at the dinner table even if she had to go back and make more food. “Since you’re already here.”

“Taisuke,” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya blinks because Kitayama hasn’t used his first name aside from for that old lady’s benefit in a couple years. “Why do you act like we have all of this resentment between us? We’re not Akanishi and Kamenashi.”

Out of everything that makes Fujigaya’s life hard on a daily basis, at least he has that to be grateful for. “I don’t know how to act with you anymore,” he says honestly, staring at the sidewalk as they take the familiar path back to Fujigaya’s house.

“Then don’t act,” Kitayama tells him simply. “Just be.”

Fujigaya thinks about that the remaining distance, and Kitayama lets him. They’re not at all the same playful, careless teenagers they were the last time they made this walk, but somehow it’s better this way. They’ve grown up, somewhat. They have so much history that Fujigaya can’t remember anything in the past ten years of his life save for some school events that didn’t involve Kitayama in one way or another. That damn face is everywhere he looks.

There’s still a while until dinner when they get back, and predictably Fujigaya’s mother fusses over Kitayama, who is more than pleased to be fussed over. Fujigaya leans in the doorway to the kitchen and watches them, moderately amused as Kitayama makes dubious noises at the aromas wafting through the air and Fuji-mama pretends to be modest about her cooking.

“Stop flirting with my mother,” Fujigaya says as they head to his room to kill some time. “My dad can kick your ass, you know.”

“Please,” Kitayama scoffs, helping himself to Fujigaya’s movie collection even though they both know he will pass out ten minutes into it if they’re not doing anything else.

Fujigaya didn’t sign up to entertain anyone and flops on his bed, scrolling through his phone and finding another mail from Kawai: _still on your date? should we start planning your wedding? we all know you’d look better in the dress._

Rolling his eyes, Fujigaya replies: _you are disgusting. my mom is feeding him and then he’s leaving. you are welcome to come over too, you know._

Somehow he knows what Kawai’s reply will be before his phone beeps again. _sorry, not into threesomes._

“Dick,” Fujigaya hisses out loud, earning Kitayama’s attention.

“Kawai?” he guesses.

“How did you—”

“You’re not the only one he’s mailing, you know.” Kitayama’s stretched out on Fujigaya’s floor like a child, or possibly a dog, flipping through some old magazines without reading any of the content. “And you really would look better in the dress.”

The sound that Fujigaya makes in response to that coupled with his expression of pure unbelievable shock has Kitayama rolling with laughter, saying, “You really need to not take things so seriously, Taisuke.” But it comes out more jumbled and confusing between laughs.

“You’re the one who’s short enough to pass as a girl,” he says unintelligent after Kitayama calms down. It’s more of a mumble though.

Kitayama snorts and sits up on the floor, looking up at Fujigaya with amused eyes. “Please, you’ve been making height jokes since you were sixteen.”

“Why are you even mailing Kawai anyway?” Fujigaya asks with a glare.

“Why are you getting so worked up?” Kitayama still has an amused glint in his eyes but turns away from Fujigaya before he can try and figure out what the reason for it is, going back to the magazine in his lap. “Stop thinking about it so hard. You’re as bad as when I first joined Johnny’s.”

Before Fujigaya can even think of something to respond with, Fuji-mama is calling them down for dinner. He stares at the open door Kitayama has just walked out of for a moment, hearing him talk to his brother out in the hall before getting up and following them downstairs.

Eating dinner with Kitayama there is so freakishly normal that Fujigaya can’t even begin to explain what about it bothers him. He sits there, chatting up Fujigaya’s brothers and parents, like it’s all so normal. It had been normal at one point, sure, but that was years ago. The way Kitayama sits there, all of them really, it’s like it’s only been a couple days since he was last with them. Kitayama still makes the same stupid noises when he eats, and laughs like an idiot, and makes fun of Fujigaya’s brothers just as he always did.

He doesn’t realize almost all of dinner has gone by when his youngest brother kicks him under the table. He glares at them both then says to the younger one, “You little brat,” in a low voice. Kitayama snickers to the left of him, just like he always did.

“Nice of you to join the conversation, Taisuke,” Fuji-mama says. “Kitayama-kun has been doing all the talking.”

“That’s no different than usual.” Fujigaya shrugs and smiles because it’s true and always has been.

Kitayama elbows him in the side, causing him to fling food from off his plate and make a mess. Fuji-mama comments on it, but he’s too distracted by stealing whatever he lost from his own plate off of Kitayama’s who is now yelling in protest.

“Oh come on, missing a few won’t kill you. You eat like a pig anyway.” He’s practically wrestling Kitayama’s arms out of the way, amazingly not knocking anything over on the table.

“No,” Kitayama says, giving a nice shove at Fujigaya, effectively getting him out of his space long enough to eat what Fujigaya was after. “I just enjoy my food to the fullest.” He mouth is full and cheeks puffed out a little, causing Fujigaya to laugh extra loud, face turning red from the force of it. It’s not really that funny, and his brothers are calling him insane, but it’s the combination of everything that has him laughing so much and he can’t stop.

After dinner, Fujigaya walks Kitayama to the corner like he used to when they were younger. “I assume you know how to get to the train station from here still.”

“Of course, I’m not you.”

He watches for a bit as the other keeps walking, hand shoved in his jacket pockets. It takes him a lot to say it, and he’s not even sure Kitayama will hear him, but he calls out the other’s name anyway, amazed at himself even though it comes out kind of choked. Fujigaya glances down at his feet when Kitayama stops and turns around looking at him in question. “Thanks. For coming today, I guess.”

Kitayama just smirks and shakes his head. “I’ll see you later, Taisuke.”

When Fujigaya is standing in the genkan, looking down at his shoes before taking them off, Fuji-mama come by with a smile. “It was nice having Kitayama-kun over again.”

Fujigaya looks up at her, recalls the day’s events and finds himself nodding. “Yeah. Yeah it was.” And when she tells him that the other should come over again sometime soon, he can’t help but find himself agreeing.

As much as continuous drama filming, HamaKisu contests, and scattered group appearances keep Fujigaya busy, sometimes he’s grateful for it. Like we he has something on his mind—or rather, something he doesn’t want to admit.

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong or do I have to get you drunk first?” Yokoo interrupts his latest space-out during the first opportunity they have to hang out after the spa outing.

“I never thought I’d say this, but I really don’t want to drink right now,” Fujigaya thinks out loud, because alcohol loosens his lips and then not only would he admit it, but other people would hear it.

“Out with it, then,” Yokoo says, nudging him with his elbow. They’re sitting on Yokoo’s couch watching some weird anime that’s on TV that Fujigaya is pretty sure he’s heard Miyata talk about before.

“Do you ever think that…” Fujigaya pauses, choosing his words carefully. “…things were easier when we were kids?”

“All the time,” Yokoo answers, laughing a little. “Nobody said growing up was easy, or that the hard part was over when we got there.”

Fujigaya snorts. “How philosophical of you.”

“Is this about Hiromitsu?”

One thing Fujigaya both loves and hates about Yokoo is that he doesn’t beat around the bush or mince words. He also doesn’t need confirmation, because Fujigaya brings his hands to his face and groans at the unfairness of the world that has led to him being all fucked up over of the last person who should cause it.

“I have to say, Taisuke, I’m a little hurt that I found out from him that he had dinner with your family and not you.”

“Not exactly something I want to brag about,” Fujigaya mutters.

“Why?” Yokoo asks, looking genuinely curious. “He was so happy about it, and not just because it’s probably the first home-cooked meal he’s had in months.”

A pang of guilt twists Fujigaya’s heart as he remembers that the reason Kitayama ate at their house so much back then was because his mom was working and didn’t have time to cook properly. Fujigaya imagines it’s not that much different now that Kitayama lives alone, except that now he eats his conbini meals by himself.

“I don’t know what’s going on in your head right now,” Yokoo says gently, poking Fujigaya in the temple for emphasis, “but there’s no reason why you two can’t be friends again. I don’t even know why you stopped to begin with.”

“Neither do I,” Fujigaya admits, then sighs. “Everything was so much simpler when we were young.”

“What’s simple are your options here,” Yokoo points out. “Either you can hang out with him again, try to rebuild your friendship from whatever ended it to begin with, or you can continue with things the way they are. You know him—he isn’t fussed about it either way.”

“When you put it like that,” Fujigaya says, “the only logical choice is to hang out with him again.”

“There you go.” Yokoo grins as he claps Fujigaya on the back and reaching for the remote. “Now can we chill out and talk about meaningless shit like normal overworked idols, please?”

Fujigaya just laughs, wondering why he feels so much lighter when the decision he’d just made is the last thing he wants to do.

Predictably, Kawai is no help. “You should really just have sex with him.”

Fujigaya should know better than to take a drink when Kawai is talking, but he manages to narrowly miss spewing it everywhere and nearly chokes to death instead. “For the last time, Fumi, we don’t do things like your group.”

Shrugging, Kawai straddles his desk chair backwards and gives him waggly eyes. “Nobody in _my_ group has any drama with another member!”

“That’s because most of your drama falls in ‘who am I going to sleep with tonight’ category.” Fujigaya rolls his eyes and leans his head back. “Admittedly, sex with him is the last thing on my mind right now.”

Kawai mock gasps, but it’s ruined when he grins. “That wasn’t always the case, Taisuke.”

“I was drunk!” He all but shouts. “And, like, twenty.”

Kawai seems to take this into consideration. “But now you’re not. So do you want to fuck him?”

“I am not having this conversation with you because you’re probably going to tell everyone.” Fujigaya glares at him, but it comes off a bit weak making Kawai laugh.

“You’re still mad about the dress aren’t you.”

Fujigaya throws an old magazine at Kawai’s head. “Go home. You’re only making things worse.”

“I’m just saying,” Kawai laughs but gets up anyway. “You should just be friends with him though.”

Once alone again, Fujigaya wonders why is it he can’t just be friends with Kitayama. He doesn’t even remember how it started, just that one day they weren’t close anymore. Kitayama spending more time laughing and joking with the younger ones or other groups, and Fujigaya still spending his time with Kawai and Yokoo. When he stops to think about it, it doesn’t even make sense. It’s not like they ever got into a full-on argument before drifting apart.

Somehow asking Kitayama out the second time is harder than the first. He doesn’t have an excuse, regardless of how pointedly his mother offers to cook Kitayama’s favorite meals. (“Everything is his favorite,” Fujigaya argues.) For some reason Fujigaya doesn’t want it to be at his house anyway. He can’t quite put his finger on it, but having his parents and his brothers around seems to defeat the purpose of hanging out with Kitayama to begin with.

He can almost hear Kawai’s taunting voice in his head—”So you want him _alone_ , huh?”—complete with unflattering eyebrow waggles or wink emojis, depending on the medium. Regardless of the implication, that’s exactly what Fujigaya wants. He just can’t think of anything for them to do. They’re too old for the arcade, too famous for the mall, and too busy for day trips. He could just invite himself over to Kitayama’s apartment and coexist on the couch like he does with Yokoo, but that’s still not good enough.

It takes a couple days of passing thoughts whenever he gets a free minute to think before he realizes that this is probably why they grew apart in the first place. Up until last year, they could bond over things like wanting to debut and ganging up on the younger members, but now…there’s nothing connecting the two of them specifically anymore.

This thought is almost more depressing than being an adult. Kitayama, for the most part, is a fun guy. Even when he’s crabby, it’s still amusing, mostly because he’s so small and Fujigaya’s pretty sure his youngest brother is more mature than the oldest member of his group. Kitayama doesn’t ever _really_ get mad about anything, either, except maybe when you first wake him up. He’s a good sport about every dumb thing the agency makes him do and makes the best of everything that happens no matter what.

The more Fujigaya thinks about it, the more he remembers that he used to be the same way. Maybe Kitayama’s attitude is contagious or something. That would definitely explain why Fujigaya wants to spend more time with him. He likes the person he is when he’s with Kitayama.

He can’t very well just call the guy up and ask him to hang out for no reason, though. Kitayama would probably go the way of Kawai and Fujigaya’s not ready for that yet. Or ever. His mental block kicks in, the one that doesn’t have him even considering the possibility, and Fujigaya flips through the latest advert of happenings around town. It’s basically impossible because Kitayama would embarrass him at a club while Fujigaya would be bored out of his mind at a rock show.

The obvious response is going out to eat together, but that’s too much like an actual date. Stopping to eat on the way to somewhere else is one thing, but just eating by itself seems incredibly formal. At least it makes Fujigaya nervous just thinking about it.

He spends the rest of the week thinking this over and just what he should do about the situation. It doesn’t get him very far because by the time the weekend comes around, Fujigaya is just as confused as he was when he went out with Kitayama the first time. He knows what he should do, just not how to go about it, therefore aggravating him throughout the week until finally Yokoo tells him to snap out of it.

“You’re acting like a child,” Yokoo points out when they’re sitting in his living room again, watching mindless television. “It’s not cute.”

“I just don’t know what to do, Watta.” Fujigaya sighs, head in Yokoo’s lap with his eyes closed tight, as if that will just make all the answers come to him.

Yokoo seems to find this amusing, chuckling at Fujigaya’s problems. “You sound like some lovesick teenage girl. Is that what this is all about? Feelings for Hiromitsu?”

“I think having feelings requires being near the person for them to develop.”

“Not unless that’s the reason why you drifted apart.” Yokoo doesn’t spare him a look, flipping through the channels on the television even though there is probably nothing on. “It wouldn’t surprise me really.”

Fujigaya whines in response with a long, “Watta,” as he thrashes about.

“I’m only saying that it would just be easier to talk to _him_ than to me. And Kawai would probably stop asking me when your next date is.”

“You too?!” Fujigaya sits up and looks at him with wide eyes.

“Just call him, Taisuke!”

He grumbles, pressing himself to the other end of the couch but pulls out his phone anyway, thinking of a reason why he would be calling Kitayama now, or at all really.

“How about because you’re friends?”

Fujigaya makes a face but hits call anyway, stomach flipping with each ring, contemplating hanging up right before Kitayama answers but then it’s too late and he hears Kitayama’s voice over the line. Fujigaya had forgotten how it sounded over the phone, just a little bit more sleep filled and a tad bit deeper. His cheeks heat up from thinking such a thing.

The conversation is awkward, probably even more so with Yokoo watching him like a hawk to make sure he doesn’t chicken out. He’s more disappointed than relieved though when Kitayama declines, saying he has plans for tomorrow. A rock show with some friends. He tries not to sound disappointed, but is sure Yokoo knows he is. But then Kitayama is saying that maybe they can hang out the next day and Fujigaya’s heart seems to soar, and it’s never even done that before at the possibility of being in the same room with Kitayama let alone doing anything. Now he’s beginning to wonder if maybe everyone is right.

“So, what are your plans for Sunday with Hiromitsu?” Yokoo asks once he’s off the phone.

“I don’t know,” Fujigaya admits, but he’s smiling brightly and his head is already back in Yokoo’s lap. “And it doesn’t even matter.”

Fuji-mama offers to give him something to take over there for lunch for the two of them when he announces that he’s going to Kitayama’s on Sunday to her.

“Mom, I’m twenty-five, not fourteen,” he says with a slight pout.

She doesn’t seem to hear him though, already thinking up all the things she could make for them. “How about Kitayama-kun’s favorites?”

“That’s everything imaginable!” She’s still not listening so Fujigaya figures it’s a lost conversation and heads up to his room. He’s excited for reasons he doesn’t know (and never will admit).

When arriving at Kitayama’s the other looks like he just rolled out of bed, with sleepy eyes and hair sticking in every direction. Kitayama yawns, staring at Fujigaya for a moment before remembering they had plans giving a small, “Oh right. Sorry.” And excusing himself for a quick shower.

“You didn’t have to bring food, you know,” Kitayama says when he returns. His hair is damp and dripping onto the collar of his shirt where he misses to dry it. Fujigaya thinks he’s pretty helpless and wants to tell him he’s missing all the water but he can’t seem to find his voice all of a sudden. “I can cook.”

“My mom insisted.” Fujigaya’s voice cracks when he finally does manage to find it, making him feel terribly embarrassed. “And I’m sure your definition of cooking if like TV dinners or something.”

“Whatever,” Kitayama mutters, hiding a smile as he takes one of the bentos and plops down on the couch. He doesn’t motion for Fujigaya to do the same and Fujigaya pauses for a second, then remembers he’s known this fool for a decade and they’re a little beyond polite manners, even if this is the first time Fujigaya’s been to his place without the other members.

Fujigaya’s drug out of his thoughts when Kitayama starts eating and instantly makes those ridiculous porno noises that has Fujigaya cringing as he sits as far away as he can get without digging into the arm of the couch. Then he realizes he’s being ridiculous and lounges normally, shaking his head at Kitayama who still appears to be jizzing his pants over Fuji-mama’s cooking.

“Ah, you’re so lucky to eat like this all the time,” Kitayama says with a stupid grin on his face, and Fujigaya focuses on his own bento to keep from looking at him. “I’ve gotten pretty good at cooking, though, honest. I’ll show you the next time you come over.”

Fujigaya pauses with his chopsticks on a piece of meat. Next time? His heart does something weird and Fujigaya swallows exceptionally hard like that will fix it. “Okay, sure,” he manages to say.

“Hey,” Kitayama says suddenly, his eyes devious as he looks over at Fujigaya. “Remember that time you tried to cook omurice and nearly set the house on fire?”

“ _Me_?” Fujigaya protests, momentarily forgetting his discomfort as he spins around indignantly. “You were there, too!”

“Yeah, but I didn’t leave the rice on high,” Kitayama points out. He’s laughing so hard that he’s slapping his knee like an old man and it has Fujigaya laughing, too.

“Oh, stuff it, I was like sixteen.” Fujigaya elbows him a little, enough to offset him to the point where he almost knocks over his bento box, and both of them watch for a terrifying half of a second until Kitayama saves it.

They both exhale in relief, but then Kitayama’s right back in Fujigaya’s face. “You were _twenty_ , and it was for your mom’s birthday.”

“How do you even remember shit like this?” Fujigaya asks incredulously.

“I remember everything,” Kitayama says pointedly. “Your mom laughed and thanked us for trying and made blueberry pancakes.”

Fujigaya rolls his eyes. Naturally all of Kitayama’s memories would be attached to food somehow. “If you remember everything, then why did we stop hanging out last year?”

It’s like someone had pressed pause on the pair of them, Kitayama’s laughter halting in an instant as he stares at the table. It only lasts for a few seconds, though, and then he’s back to stuffing his face like usual. “That you’ll have to tell me, Taisuke, because it was you who stopped wanting to be around me.”

“It was _not_ ,” Fujigaya protests. “You started hanging out with the others and didn’t talk to me anymore and—”

“Listen to yourself,” Kitayama cuts him off, shoving the last of the bento into his mouth before placing the box on the table and turning to give Fujigaya his full attention. “It takes two people to have a conversation, right? You could have made the initiative to talk to me, too, you know.”

“I’m not good at that,” Fujigaya tells him.

“Oh, I know,” Kitayama replies. “Just like the only reason you’re here is because Watta made you call me.”

Fujigaya narrows his eyes and starts to plan Yokoo’s death, then realizes that would leave him with Kawai as his only best friend and reconsiders. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” he says defensively, speaking too fast to think about the words that come out. “I just don’t know how to talk to you anymore.”

“Honestly, I thought we’d grown apart,” Kitayama says, “and I’m really okay with that. I know how it feels to have nothing in common with people you used to be friends with. I haven’t seen my old soccer friends for years because it’s so awkward when we get together. We’re not into the same things anymore.”

“Yeah, but I don’t—” Fujigaya cuts himself off before he says something he’ll regret. _I don’t want to let you go._

“Taisuke,” Kitayama says gently. “I’m just happy you don’t glare at me anymore. Let me come over for dinner every now and then and we’ll be fine. You don’t have to force yourself to spend time with me.”

“It’s not forcing,” Fujigaya says strongly, clearly startling Kitayama with the tone of his voice, but this is something he knows for sure. Kitayama’s looking at him expectantly now, waiting for him to go on, but Fujigaya can’t put his thoughts together. “Ugh, I am so tired of trying to figure this out! All I know is that I miss being around you, okay? As lame as that sounds.”

“You’ve been thinking about it that much?” Kitayama asks, and it’s not taunting at all. He looks genuinely surprised, and for good reason, because the Fujigaya Taisuke he knows doesn’t waste his time all hung up on people who don’t matter. Then again, Fujigaya would probably punch Kitayama in the face if he sat there and claimed that he didn’t matter to Fujigaya, even if they’ve been estranged lately. They’re still in the same group, after all, and they work together on other projects as well.

“ _Yes_ ,” Fujigaya explodes, and by this point he’s just had it. Everything comes pouring out, starting with the goddamn coupon and how everyone pushes them together all the time, then finds his face growing hot when he starts listing the qualities of Kitayama that he admires and how he has them too when they’re together.

“Taisuke, stop,” Kitayama halts him, reaching his hand out to physically close Fujigaya’s lips with his fingers, and Fujigaya narrows his eyes. “Stop and think why it bothers you so much every time we have to do those stupid OTP shoots, and why it _doesn’t_ when you’re paired with, say, Watta.”

He drops his hand to allow Fujigaya to speak, which is prefaced with a shrug. “Easy. Wataru is my friend.”

“And what am I?”

Fujigaya stares at him, right into his eyes that are unreadable. He’s never been able to read Kitayama, though there haven’t been many reasons to. Fujigaya’s the one who’s complicated, not Kitayama. Kitayama’s simple, which had always seemed to balance them out before. Until Fujigaya pushed him away.

“Up until that word vomit you just spewed at me, I would have thought I meant nothing to you,” Kitayama says, and that urge to punch him in the face returns. “Apparently that’s not the case.”

“What is it, then?” Fujigaya asks, his heart beating so fast that he’s pretty sure both of them can hear it.

“You tell me!” Kitayama exclaims, flopping back against the back of the couch in exasperation. “They’re _your_ feelings, Taisuke. I’m not going to know what they are unless you _tell me_.”

Feelings. Fujigaya blinks at him, nearly straining his neck to look over his shoulder where Kitayama is huffing impatiently and setting his jaw. His hair is in his face and he doesn’t seem to care, though it clearly bothers Fujigaya judging by the way his hand twitches to move it back behind his ear.

“I can wait all night,” Kitayama says pointedly, folding his arms and letting his eyes fall shut. “Can’t guarantee I’ll stay awake, though.”

Fujigaya laughs despite himself, a short laugh that comes out a little on edge because suddenly he’s anxious. For what, he doesn’t understand, just that it intensifies when he looks at Kitayama’s face. It’s a face he’s seen a million times, but this time it’s different. It both comforts him and terrifies him at the same time, and his gaze starts to drift down to Kitayama’s mouth before he catches himself. No, it’s not that. It can’t be that. Kawai is not right. They are not ABC-Z who just fuck each other purely for physical gratification without any kind of deep attachment—

Then Kitayama opens his eyes, catching Fujigaya’s gaze and Fujigaya can’t lie to himself anymore. His face is burning and no amount of tanning could possibly cover it up, and in that second he knows that Kitayama knows, too. For the first time in over a year Fujigaya pushes away his mental block and suddenly everything he’s been locking up deep inside him comes flooding to the surface, the tingling he would feel whenever Kitayama touched him in pairing shoots and the way his stomach would twist when Kitayama smiled.

“You’re really stubborn, you know that?” Kitayama says, and Fujigaya’s eyes widen as the older man leans up with an eyeroll. “Just so we’re clear, I’m not going to do this for you every time.”

And then Kitayama’s hand is on his face, pulling him closer and all of Fujigaya’s worries and tension dissipate as those warm lips touch his.

Fujigaya isn’t sure what he expected when kissing Kitayama. It was softer than he imagined, not that he ever imagined kissing Kitayama—because he hadn’t! Fujigaya has kissed a lot of people up to this point in his life, but none of them have ever been like this. He never thought that a kiss could be so impossibly slow and lazy while all the same make his stomach do flips and twists.

By the time Fujigaya realizes he’s leaning into Kitayama’s hand on his face, there are fingers playing with the short strands of his hair, threading through them, pulling at them lightly. It has him opening his mouth just a bit, with the added help from Kitayama’s tongue licking at Fujigaya’s bottom lip. Fujigaya holds on to Kitayama’s elbow, not sure if he wants to pull the other closer or just stay in the moment. He wonders just what he was so against now when Kawai had brought it up the first time. But it’s all over too soon and Kitayama is pulling away.

He has to fight down the soft whine that’s in his throat when the warmth that Kitayama had brought with him is too far for Fujigaya to enjoy. Kitayama is looking at him still with that unreadable expression, eyes trained perfectly on his, probably waiting to see what Fujigaya is going to do next.

“Fumi told me I should do this weeks ago,” Fujigaya finds himself laughing and he feels Kitayama’s body relax next to his, a smile gracing his lips.

“He told me.” Kitayama moves closer, practically sitting on Fujigaya, worming his way into the other’s space and bringing back that warmth. Fujigaya can’t bring himself to care much more than to press his forehead to Kitayama’s shoulder to muffle his groan of protest.

“Does he tell you everything?”

Kitayama’s laugh sounds even louder when he’s so close to the source. Tingling his skin and echoing in his ear. “Only when it involves me. And I believe the actual conversation was about fucking me.”

Fujigaya’s head snaps up to look at him with horror, but Kitayama still looks amused, shifting a little to lean his head to the side on the back of the couch. He looks entirely too happy right now.

“You wanted to fuck me when you were twenty? Somehow I feel like that is how this all started.” There’s a sly smile on Kitayama’s face. It’s annoying and attractive all at the same time. Fujigaya wants nothing more than to remove it.

“I was drunk!”

Kitayama leans over to kiss him again, this time on his jaw and up along the shell of his ear. “Not the point.” He pulls back suddenly, actually pulling a whine from Fujigaya this time. “You’re cute when you try to be stubborn,” Kitayama starts, “but it slows down everything else.”

Fujigaya doesn’t really know what that means, until he feels one of Kitayama’s hands trace over his side and play with the hem of his shirt, fingertips tickling the soft skin of Fujigaya’s hip. Kitayama smirks when his breath hitches and moves his hand up more, successfully lifting Fujigaya’s shirt just enough to get his point across.

Fujigaya’s body is more than willing to let this proceed, but something nags at his heart to the point where he grabs Kitayama’s wrist to halt him. Kitayama pulls his mouth away from where it had been doing very pleasant things to his ear and blinks at him in confusion, and rightfully so.

“Isn’t this what you want?” he asks quietly, thumb still drifting over the bottom of Fujigaya’s ribs, making him shiver.

“Not like this,” Fujigaya breathes, and suddenly his tongue is thick with the words he wants to say. It’s not like before when he didn’t know _what_ to say—now he knows exactly what he wants to say, just not how he should say it. “I mean, just like this, without…meaning.”

Then Kitayama’s hand is back on his face, Fujigaya’s fingers still curled loosely around his wrist as his head is turned toward the other’s. Kitayama licks his lips, naturally drawing Fujigaya’s attention and they look so much different now that Fujigaya knows what they taste like. It feels like every nerve in his body wants him to taste them again, to feel Kitayama’s hands all over him and wherever it goes from there, but once again he’s held back by some invisible force that isn’t satisfied with just that.

“This is going to be a reoccurring thing, isn’t it?” Kitayama asks, a smug smile playing at his lips. “You’re pretty transparent, but I can’t always read your mind.”

“Can you read it right now?” Fujigaya asks hopefully, and he’s flooded with warmth when Kitayama slides his hand down just enough to lace their fingers together.

Kitayama rolls his eyes. “Complete strangers across the world could read your mind right now.”

“So…” Fujigaya trails off, biting his lip in apprehension, pleased when he notices Kitayama’s eyes dart down to watch.

“Tell me—” Kitayama leans closer “—how you—” ghosting Fujigaya’s lips with his “—feel about me.”

“I-like-you,” Fujigaya says in a rush of air, and suddenly it’s like a large weight is lifted off his shoulders. “I have, for awhile, and every time we’re pushed together just made me angry because it’s like an exploitation of my feelings and—”

He’s cut off by Kitayama’s mouth, this time with arms wrapping around his back and Fujigaya quickly catches up. Gravity shifts and they’re horizontal, Kitayama stretching out beneath him and Fujigaya never expected that another person could feel this warm against him.

Still he pulls back, taking in Kitayama’s dark, unfocused eyes and flushed cheeks that go right into his pants because _Kitayama wants him_ , but that’s not what he wants from him right now. “Your turn,” he says pointedly, gasping for a breath of air he hadn’t known he needed.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama says gently, his embrace tightening, “I’ve always cared about you. I was so hurt when you just cut everything off with no explanation aside from fans getting the wrong idea.”

“I’m sorry—” Fujigaya starts, but Kitayama keeps going.

“I got over it, it’s fine.” Kitayama offers a small smile. “There’s no reason to focus on things you can’t control, right? If there’s one thing I’ve learned as I’ve gotten older, it’s to pick your battles. You were a battle I never thought I’d win, so I gave up.”

Fujigaya stares at him. “And now?”

His whole body shakes from the force of Kitayama’s laughter. “Seems like you did the fighting for me.” At Fujigaya’s thoughtful frown, he rolls his eyes. “This means I like you too, idiot.”

“Don’t call me an idiot when we’re like this,” Fujigaya says firmly, giving in to his urge to curl up on top of Kitayama, head on his chest to hear his heartbeat. Fingers sift through his hair and it feels more intimate than if they were doing what everyone wants them to do.

“If it makes you feel any better,” Kitayama begins, pressing his words into Fujigaya’s scalp, “this is technically our second date.”

It doesn’t exactly make him feel any better because now he wishes he had done this all so much sooner, then they would’ve been this close for god only knows how long. Fujigaya finds himself smiling anyway, arm pulling at Kitayama’s waist, bringing them as close as they can be still fully dressed.

“Now are you satisfied?” Kitayama asks, pressing a kiss to Fujigaya’s hairline after pushing back his hair. It probably looks stupid now, he spent a lot of time working it just right before leaving the house earlier, but he can’t seem to care, rolling his body fully on top of Kitayama’s.

Fujigaya leans down and kisses him slowly, feeling so much more lost as to what to actually do with himself now that this is happening. The feeling of Kitayama’s tongue against his own is probably something Fujigaya will never get used to. It sends even more tingles throughout his body than before, having all his nerves on end from each spot he can feel Kitayama pressed against him. Fujigaya couldn’t be anymore satisfied even if Kitayama was fucking him into the couch right this second. Or the other way around if he so wishes.

“So what do you want to do now, Taisuke?” Kitayama sounds a bit breathless when he tears his mouth away from Fujigaya’s.

Fujigaya makes a sound in protest, pulling back just enough to see the look in Kitayama’s eyes. “Anything,” he says. “Everything?”

Kitayama’s laugh is still so amazing when they’re pressed up together, shaking Fujigaya with the force of it. It’s those small movements that has Fujigaya realize what Kitayama wants now and he’s more than happy to oblige.

“Have you done this before?” Kitayama asks, and his voice is deeper now, seeming to penetrate right into Fujigaya’s ears and continue somewhere inside that has him rocking down again, gasping as he makes contact with something hard and Kitayama’s groan is even more piercing.

“Yeah,” Fujigaya replies, lowering his hands to Kitayama’s sides to push up his shirt, pausing when Kitayama shivers beneath him. “You’re really sensitive.”

“I’ve been waiting awhile,” Kitayama says pointedly, and Fujigaya doesn’t think he means just today.

“I won’t make you wait any longer,” Fujigaya whispers, returning to Kitayama’s mouth before the other man can laugh at him for being cheesy, though that seems like the furthest thing from Kitayama’s mind as he grabs Fujigaya by the hips and grinds up against him.

Now Fujigaya lets out a moan and pushes Kitayama’s shirt up with a purpose, pulling away only to tug it over his head while Kitayama does the same to him. His body feels even warmer skin to skin; Fujigaya feels like he can’t get close enough, trailing his fingers all over Kitayama’s chest and arms just to make him squirm.

With each movement of Kitayama’s body, Fujigaya feels his own needs growing. His desire to be as close to Kitayama as possibly is making it harder for him to focus on one thing. Fujigaya can only rock his hips against Kitayama’s, figuring that will do for now until one of them gets tired and moves this along.

It doesn’t take long at all actually, before Kitayama is pushing at Fujigaya’s chest, forcing him to sit up so he can undo the other’s pants, popping the button with purpose and pulling down the zipper. It’s more than obvious by now, if it wasn’t before, that Fujigaya wants this just as bad. Bulge in his underwear that he would probably give nothing more than to feel Kitayama’s hands around. His warm hands that are moving around his waist, spreading on his back and then pushing down his clothes.

It’s so much easier to get Kitayama out of his clothes, even easier than Fujigaya probably thought before. But that could have to do with the fact that they both really want this. Kitayama possibly even more than Fujigaya himself and staying true to his word, Fujigaya pressing his body close to Kitayama’s. Skin to skin, actually shivering at the sudden contact. The light dull tingle of his nerves before when they had fabric between them heightens and fogs Fujigaya’s mind. He knows already that it probably won’t last long. Not with the way Kitayama’s hands along his back, over his ass, and the back of his thighs.

The cool, slick finger, that presses inside Fujigaya almost makes him jump. He was lost in the senses of feeling Kitayama almost everywhere, and now it’s true. He mouths his way from Kitayama’s neck, where his face is pressed into. Lazy kisses that can’t really count for anything, until he finds what he’s looking for. Kitayama’s soft lips that he can’t seem to get enough of, like a drug to him and making his mind even more of a mess than it was before. Fujigaya can’t even bring himself to do much more than kiss Kitayama at the moment, silently promising he’ll make up for it later.

“You okay?” Kitayama whispers, and Fujigaya grins at Kitayama, misunderstanding his lack of participation for discomfort.

“Yeah,” he replies, pushing back a little against Kitayama’s hand, and Kitayama makes a low noise that joins his finger as he slips in a second and touches Fujigaya deeper. Fujigaya chokes on his next breath and angles up, trying to get Kitayama to hit him where he really wants him, then lets out a strangled moan when Kitayama hits him there.

“Taisuke,” Kitayama says, but it’s not a command for his attention and Fujigaya’s not sure how he’s lived this long without hearing his name in that tone. Kitayama moves his fingers quickly against that spot and Fujigaya’s hips snap beyond his control, his cock bumping Kitayama’s and sending them both gasping into each other’s mouths.

A third finger enters him and Fujigaya’s hands come back to life, squeezing the muscles of Kitayama’s arms and back in an effort to release tension. One of his hands drops between them and curls around Kitayama’s cock, Kitayama’s groan dying on his tongue as Fujigaya hears him fumble with something that crinkles with his free hand. It has Fujigaya pushing back against Kitayama’s fingers, more than ready for them to be replaced with something bigger.

“Please,” Fujigaya breathes, feeling Kitayama grow harder in his hand from the begging. “Hurry up, Mitsu.”

“Somehow I knew you’d be impatient,” Kitayama mutters, and Fujigaya huffs indignantly until Kitayama’s fingers leave him and he feels strangely empty. “Do you want to do it like this?”

“I’m already here,” Fujigaya replies, leaning up to straddle Kitayama’s waist properly and wait for him to roll on the condom. Once he does, Fujigaya looks up at his face to find those eyes on him, dark and lustful as they were before, but with an added layer of adoration that has Fujigaya leaning down to kiss him once more as he situates himself over Kitayama’s lap.

Then he lowers himself onto Kitayama’s cock and presses his face into Kitayama’s neck, smelling his cologne as he’s stretched even more. Kitayama doesn’t move at all, letting him adjust on his own, but Fujigaya can feel him shake beneath him with how much he wants to. He takes a deep breath and tries to relax, opening enough to take him all the way in, and Kitayama’s hands grip onto his hips so hard that Fujigaya couldn’t move if he wanted to.

“Fuck, you’re tight,” Kitayama hisses, and Fujigaya presses a noncommittal noise into his skin. He gives a tentative roll of his hips, which has Kitayama moaning outright; Fujigaya is pleased to learn that it’s much different than when he’s eating. “ _Taisuke_.”

His voice is urgent and Fujigaya wants to make a comment about who the impatient one is now, but then he’s pushing back in a slow rhythm and all he can do is feel. Kitayama takes this as a cue to move and very quickly Fujigaya finds himself bouncing, Kitayama thrusting deep inside him from below and their combined groans mesh together in Fujigaya’s head like a song.

“Mitsu,” Fujigaya says, intending for it to be soft and sexy but it comes out strangled and urgent—and very desperate.

Kitayama bends his knees to plant his feet on the couch for more leverage, tossing his head back with a deep groan as he pulls Fujigaya down with each sharp thrust up. It’s fast and hard and Fujigaya loves it; he’s done it like this before, but it’s never been this good, this intense. The part of his brain that hasn’t yet been fucked out wonders if it’s because of their newfound feelings or if Kitayama’s just amazing in the sack.

His thought is broken when Kitayama cries out, one arm hooking around Fujigaya’s back to pull him close as he thrusts three more times. Fujigaya feels him come and it leaves him tingling despite still being aroused and untouched.

“Shit, sorry,” Kitayama gasps, and Fujigaya shakes his head. “Get up.”

It’s a strange order, but Fujigaya leans up and carefully sits on the couch, only wincing a little from the pounding he’d just taken. Kitayama sweeps his legs out from under Fujigaya with what looks like the last of his energy, then reaches for Fujigaya’s arm with a shaky hand.

“Help me up,” he mumbles, and Fujigaya just laughs.

“Lazy ass,” he teases.

Kitayama snorts. “If you want me to suck you off, you’ll help me up.”

With a promise like that, Fujigaya can’t help but listen and pull Kitayama up so he’s sitting on the couch next to him. He’s not left with much time to think after that, because Kitayama’s hand is around around him, pulling him off as he licks at the head of Fujigaya’s cock.

Fujigaya’s moan is loud and he throws his head back. He doesn’t remember a blow job being this good, but just as before the feelings might have something to do with. That or he’s just really close. Kitayama’s tongue does amazing things all over, licking at the slit before sliding along the shaft. There’s no pressure in Kitayama’s grip on Fujigaya’s waist, allowing him to thrust up into the tight heat that is Kitayama’s mouth.

Everything is over all too soon, Kitayama doing barely any work—not that he needed to at this point. Fujigaya feels it just before it happens, a split second, his cry the only warning Kitayama gets before he comes. It’s a little messy, but Kitayama manages to swallow everything before pulling Fujigaya back down into a kiss. Now if kissing Kitayama had seemed like one of his wildest dreams only a little bit ago, kissing him after sex, and tasting himself on the other’s tongue, well that must be a fucking miracle.

Kitayama is practically asleep on Fujigaya’s chest after he manages to pull himself together. Soft breath tickling his skin as a warm arm finds its way back around his waist. Fujigaya has said this before, but Kitayama’s sleeping face would make anyone’s heart beat fast, his own included and ready to beat right out of his chest. Regardless, Fujigaya presses himself close to Kitayama until they are a mess of limbs and it’s Kitayama’s warmth relaxing his own body until he’s not far from sleep either.

“Hey,” Kitayama says when Fujigaya starts to move. He’s just shifting a little, thinking about reaching for his clothes, but Kitayama grabs his wrist like he’d been planning on leaving. “Stay over.”

Fujigaya eyes him. “You just want me to carry your ass to bed.”

“So what if I do?” Kitayama asks, giving him a pointed look from under his hooded lids. “I did all the work from the _bottom_.”

Rolling his eyes, Fujigaya lugs Kitayama up and down the hallway, not bothering to gather their clothes on the way. Kitayama’s bed is actually really comfortable, even though he pretends to be annoyed at Kitayama’s deadweight that flops halfway on top of him before passing right out. The annoyance is short-lived when Fujigaya absently lifts his fingers to thread through Kitayama’s damp hair and Kitayama makes cute noises in his sleep.

Fujigaya is sure he could find more things to be annoyed about. Like how Kitayama seems to sleep with his mouth open when laying a certain way, or how Kitayama is the biggest blanket hog Fujigaya has ever seen (once he can even get the blankets from under Kitayama’s deadweight), but then Kitayama is pulling him close in his sleep. Curled up on his side and pressing himself into Fujigaya’s arms and Fujigaya can’t really feel anything but sheer joy because this is what he’s always wanted. Not that Kitayama will ever hear those words, or anything even close.

The next morning (after what seems like the best sleep he has had in ages), Fujigaya wakes to his cell phone blaring from the other room, some loud obnoxious song. Kitayama starts grumbling in his sleep, “if that doesn’t stop—” and the rest is a jumbled mess. Really, Fujigaya doesn’t want to know. Instead he picks himself out of bed and Kitayama’s death grip to see who the hell is calling him at seven in the morning.

“I hear you had sex,” Kawai’s voice says over the phone.

“I’m changing my number,” Fujigaya replies, looking around with a squint trying to pick out his clothes and put them on correctly.

Kawai’s laugh is too loud at this hour. “So when is the wedding?”

Fujigaya hangs up after willing himself not to throw his phone against the wall. He can’t fall asleep once he’s awake again, body already deciding he’s up for the day, so he pokes around Kitayama’s kitchen for something to eat. Cooking is an effort, and waking Kitayama up is not an option Fujigaya really wants to go for so he takes his chances with the lunchbox Fuji-mama made the previous day. It’s a bit warm, but holds him over until actually doing something becomes an option.

Kitayama finds him just as he finishes eating, pressed into the end of the couch and leaning on the arm rest. He ruffles Fujigaya’s hair in passing, like this is the most normal thing ever, and heads to the kitchen for a drink. Fujigaya risks a glance, sighing in relief when he finds the other actually put pants on. While Fujigaya has lost count of how many times he has seen the other naked since they’ve met, it’s entirely different now and that is not something he needs on his mind. Or in his face.

Kitayama doesn’t seem to pay him much attention after that, probably lost in the morning haze and having just woken up. Fujigaya is more than okay with that, trying to figure out just what in the hell they should do next. When he still hasn’t figured it out after Kitayama is kicking him out of the door saying, “I’m not having some tight ass come bang on my door because you were late for filming or something,” he just feels his stomach turn into knots once more and nods.

Yokoo calls him hopeless, saying, “You’ve had sex with him. _Sex_ , Taisuke. And yet you can’t ask him out still?” He’s officially done with the best friend duty on this one, telling Fujigaya to just open his mouth.

Kitayama doesn’t act much different, probably to avoid looks and questions from the others for now, aside from the simple conversation here or there. Fujigaya figures maybe it really is up to him to just _talk_.

“You’re staring at me,” Kitayama says one afternoon during a practice break.

Fujigaya actually blushes and turns away. “Am not,” he scoffs, sounding like a teenager.

Kitayama smiles, shaking his head. “Should I read your mind again? You’re being obvious.” And when Fujigaya doesn’t answer, he shifts to the other end of the love seat, pressing himself against Fujigaya. “It’s either ‘so what are we exactly’ or,” Kitayama glances up and looks over Fujigaya’s face, taking in his features. “Or when is the next date?”

He really hates how Kitayama and Yokoo are always right. groaning, Fujigaya pulls himself away from Kitayama, though it doesn’t actually work when he’s at the end of the love seat. “Both.”

Humming, Kitayama nods and places and arm on the back of love seat behind Fujigaya’s head. “How about tonight? I could cook and…” He stops, pressing his nose into Fujigaya’s cheek and leaving a light kiss.

“Oh gross,” Tamamori says loudly, pulling Fujigaya away from the moment. He was just about to turn into the kiss as well. “You’re dating now too?” He shivers.

Kitayama looks pretty smug, pulling himself away from Fujigaya and leaving the love seat all together. He doesn’t deny Tamamori’s words, just shoves the younger and tells him that he doesn’t want to hear it because him and Miyata have been caught dozens of times. Fujigaya thinks that’s probably the best answer he could get, and throws himself into the rest of the day’s work more than excited for Kitayama’s promise.


End file.
